Moonturn
by Shirahoshi
Summary: ThorAU - Werewolves on Asgard are less then welcome. That's why Prince Loki had to flee after being exposed as one and lived his life as a lone wolf ever since, his memories and self slowly drifting away from him as the wolf grew stronger.
1. Chapter 1

The wolf was following the deer's track with his head hung low, trying to ignore the cold flakes of snow falling into his eyes.

He has to hurry before it covers the footprints and the scent with it. But it was so very hard; he hadn't eaten in days. That's why he missed the first lung, though he managed to injure the hinder leg of the deer.

It had been easier, once. He remembered a great room, long tables with people chattering around them happily, once or twice throwing a bone to the dogs as the friendly fire warmed the place in a hundred hearths.

It all seems like a dream from the hard truth of the winter forest now. He had been so very young, never parting from his mother for more than five minutes. She had always welcomed him with the same kindness and never seemed to be bothered by him practically clinging to her.

And there was another boy as well. With hair of gold and eyes the colour of the summer sky and always a kind word for him.

But there were others as well, who turned his kind words foul and hurting. He spent less time playing with him and more tormenting. The big, grey haired man who was also present at times rarely said a word, just sighed and shook his head, while he was trying to act as everything the blonde boy did didn't hurt him, as if it had been all fun for him too. So he wouldn't see his mother sad because of him. He had seen her sad enough times for the other one.

A twig snapped not far away as a small bird took off. He twitched as he spun around in surprise, baring his fangs at the harmless animal though it had been far from him by then. He growled at his own stupidity before turning and continuing on his way.

There were a few times when he let his guard down and it never ended well for him.

But there were good times as well. Once, he met a female of his kind. They spent three wonderful years together. Then, one day, she went to scavenge some food, then never returned. He found out later that she was caught by a trap which possibly immediately killed her. At least she didn't suffer long.

His path came to an abrupt end at a frozen lake, with the tracks going deeper in, before ending in a hole, already freezing over again.

Another day, another lost game. Another failure. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. But he couldn't let himself to stall for too long; there was a storm coming, a bad one. He could feel it in the wind. He had to get back to his shelter before it hit.

Somewhere, in the distance, another wolf howled. He didn't answer the call.

There was a strange smell around his chosen hideout. (It wasn't even that, not really. He had barely enough space to turn. But it served its purpose.) Foreign, but not entirely. His ears perked up as the wind brought the sounds of teeth chattering. A human.

It wouldn't hurt to check out how far he was exactly from his cave. Just to be sure he was safe.

The fire lit by the human was pathetically weak, threatening to go out any moment now, as the wind grew stronger and stronger by each passing moment. He was basically swaddled in thick layers of deer and bear skin, but it didn't seem to help much as he was trembling with cold, even though the worst of the wind avoided him, thanks to a smaller wall of rocks.

Clever choosing of place to stay, as far as possibilities went in this forest. Not as good as his hideout, but the man would not fit into that.

And behind him lay a piece of meat, just within his arm's reach. Another piece was being roasted on the fire. (Ha. As if it'd get edible enough for the human before it was extinguished by the combined forces of nature.)

What should it be? Return to his cave's safety, or eat?

In the end, hunger won. Big as he was, the man didn't seem to be in the best of healths, judging from the coughing, and besides, _he _was faster. He could tear his throat out sooner than he could grab either the hammer or knife lying near his hands would he notice the wolf trying to get the meat.

"I'm sorry, mother. It'd appear I failed, again."

It was hard to sneak close enough to grab the food without making a noise, but he managed. At least until he didn't knock a piece of rock over, too preoccupied by the target that was only a few steps ahead of him.

The great black wolf was ready to jump, but something stopped him as the man turned, the fur on his back rustling slightly. Was it the familiar scent that grew more noticeable with each passing meter?

Sky blue eyes looked into his own yellowish-green, the human's lips slightly parted, small clouds of breath escaping from his mouth that was surrounded by golden coloured beard.

They held that pose for some time, man and wolf.

It was long before the human spoke again.

"Loki," he said, reaching out, "Loki, is that you?"

He snarled, baring his fangs as a warning, before snapping at the man's outstretched hand, ignoring the feeling of something being _stirred_ inside. The man pulled his hand back slowly, but his eyes didn't left him.

"It's okay," he was speaking slowly, "It's me. It's Thor." He smiled, as if the name should mean something to him. "Your brother?" he asked hopefully.

At his blank glance, the smile wavered.

"Ah, Mother warned that this might happen. What was it, sixteen years? Yes, indeed," he nodded to himself, before looking back at him. "I suppose you're hungry. Here," he picked up the meat lying behind him, offering it with one gloved hand. The wolf stalked closer, sniffed at it, before taking it out carefully from between the thick fingers of the glove. All the while the man continued to speak.

"There, there. I'm not going to hurt you. Although apparently others did," his eyes slid over the long healed scars left by some trappers from when he was still careless, "Mother would be outraged if she'd knew."

The wolf edged backwards, torn between going and staying. The fire though tiny it was, was still more friendly than the cave that awaited him. And apparently the man didn't mean to do any harm to him.

_You thought the same about the others._

It didn't matter now, did it? He was apologising for something to his mother; and mothers were good. Warm. Their sons were rarely worse.

He settled down, and started devouring the meat as the man threw some wood at the fire.

"She is very scared for you, you know. Just like father. We all were."

The meat was slightly icy, but better than nothing.

"I guess, if you could talk right now and would not be so preoccupied with the meat, you'd call me a fool for coming here. Especially in this weather," the blonde male glanced upwards, "Let's hope the storm does not come here. That'd be a problem." For a time silence reigned. All that could be heard was him munching on the meat that slowly softened up under his breath and the fire crackly quietly. Then, after taking his own piece away from the fire, the human spoke again, "You remember when we were children? You used to climb every tree in sight," there was a chuckling sound, "I bet you don't much of that nowadays. Anyway, there was the time when you cut Sif's hair because she called you girlish. Remember? She chased you up a tree, but couldn't go after you, so she was yelling at you until her face was all red and you would just laugh. At least until Mother told you to come down. Then, you were the one who was red as an apple. You told her that if Sif called you girlish, then you simply wanted her to be a bit more boyish as she pretends to be one. That was one of the few time I remember mother actually scolding you. But you felt so bad for her in the end that you bought her a wig. She still has it you know," the wolf felt that the man glanced at him, "She wants you back just as much as we do, even if she'd never say it. Because she has nobody to challenge her intellectually, except for her King and Queen, that's her reasoning. As much a lie as the ones you used to spin for us after our adventures."

The fire crackled and an owl hooted not far away. The wind appeared to be growing weaker; it looked like the storm will avoid them. But it was never one-hundred percent sure.

"There was one time in Nornheim. The warriors just wouldn't stop coming and Fandrall and Volstagg were already already injured, so you conjured up some smoke and later told Eir that it was an especially foul-tempered bilgesnipe that did it to them."

He felt his fur bristle as something touched his neck carefully and started stroking it. He didn't even notice when the human moved.

"Or when we ventured to get back Mjöllnir from that giant. You said one lie after the other without even blinking. I think I'll never live wearing a maid's wedding dress down. I have you to thank for that." The hand stopped, now simply resting at his neck.

"And when an actual especially foul-tempered bilgesnipe attacked us and I didn't have Mjöllnir... It's only because of you survived," the man let out a choked noise, "And you had to flee because of me. I'm so sorry, brother."

Something warm rushed through the wolf's body.

"_Brother! Brother, come look at this!_"

"_I told you ten times, Thor! I care not about another stupid sword trick._" His head was pulled into the burly man's lap.

"It's my fault. I've been thinking about how could I make amendments ever since. Then, Mother and Heimdall both lost sight of you... Not even the ravens could find you. I'm sorry. For everything."

Something hot and wet fell onto his muzzle.

The man was crying. But why was he crying?

"Do you think you can forgive me? I know I could not."

His tongue flicked out, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall, causing the man to chuckle.

Whoever this man's brother is, he must be much loved.

"Can you even hear me?"

The wolf blinked. Of course he could. He was lying in his lap; he could hear him just fine.

"If you can; please come back to us. Please."

They slept like that, warming each other; the fire, however weak looking still blazing bravely into the darkness, scaring away the fears and monsters, at least for that one night.

The human slept and hoped.

The wolf slept and dreamt of a Queen-mother, a King-father and two boys, different as day and night, yet brothers in everything, but blood.

* * *

><p><strong>Loki's behaviour differs from other wolves because he is used to humans around him.<strong>

**Obviously, as he could turn into one by will. He's a werewolf, ex-prince of Asgard, where werewolves are not exactly welcome. He doesn't remember Thor (well, not really) because he was in wolf form for too long.**

**This fic was inspired by Florbe91's small comic-strip-thingy.**


	2. Chapter 2

Thor awoke with a start, to a world dressed in white, sparkling like crystals. The fire had long burnt itself out which wasn't a wonder; it is wont to do so if it's not fed properly.

Ungrateful things, fires are, he mused. You feed them, you take care of them, yet they either burn out or do much more than giving sufficient light and warmth.

He groaned as he stood up; the cold has settled itself in his bones overnight. It's a wonder he didn't freeze to death.

Though apparently his prayers were answered and the storm avoided him and...

His eyes widened at the fresh track of the footprints of a wolf leading away from his small camp.

Loki.

It can't be. He just found his brother and had already lost him.

Because it _had_ to be him. A normal wolf wouldn't have let him that close. And even if it had been another werewolf playing at the free food, there was that scar just beneath his ear...

He sat back onto the ground, but this time at a place where the rock was already warmed up by the sun as much as it will be likely to get in wintertime.

Loki was gone. Again. Because he didn't get up earlier.

Thor surpressed a cough. He hoped that last night he broke through the wolf and got to his brother, but apparently he was mistaken.

Something pulled on his furs from behind. He turned in surprise to find himself face to face with his brother. The wolf gave him a meaningful look, turned his head towards the line of trees, then at him again.

"You know, it'd be easier if you'd just turn back. We wouldn't have to play these "guess what I thought of" games," Thor spoke. The animal cocked his head comically a lot like Loki as human when he said something foolish or absurd, before turning around and galloping off towards the trees.

Thor had no choice but to follow him.

For a while the older paw-prints were steady, before the snow was suddenly stirred up, as if Loki had leaped at something. And indeed, drops of blood were splattered across the white sheet, leading to a place where the bushes grew thicker. An obviously excited wolfhead popped out from between the twigs, before disappearing once more.

"Coming, coming," Thor murmured, coughing quietly into his gloves. Him and the cold never agreed with each other when it came to withstanding the weather below freezing point for longer periods of time.

* * *

><p>The deer couldn't have suffered much, if the two precise bite marks were anything to go by. Apparently it had gotten close to them, so Loki, noting that he was running low on food, went and killed it. He was sitting not too far away, tail waggling slightly behind himself, with an expecting look on his face.<p>

"So that's what you wanted to show me," he said, picking out his knife. "I didn't know you have become such an adequate hunter in the meantime, brother."

He well remembered the first time Father had taken the two of them hunting. Back then, Loki didn't know what he was yet, and fainted when the first blow to the deer drew blood, but did not kill the animal, only incapacitated it.

The wolf yapped and turned his head, as if he was offended. Thor laughed silently, before reaching out to ruffle his fur, but the animal shied back. The man simply smiled and hold his hand still.

"It's all right. Last night you slept on me; don't start this now. It's too late for that to be believable."

Loki's ears perked up as he cautiously nipped at the thick fingers of the glove gently, before pulling it off with a quick yank and running a few steps, out of arm's reach.

"You're the worst," Thor informed him, preparing for his task, tugging the sleeves of his coat a slightly more up, then removed the other glove so it wouldn't get all bloody. When his job was done, the meat neatly sliced and wrapped up in his bag, he rubbed his hands with snow to get as much blood off as he could before he chased Loki down for the glove's pair.

"We should get moving," he said, pulling up the glove onto his hand victoriously before slinging the pack across his back. The wolf looked up from the remains of the deer, his muzzle stained red. "I have seen a more protected cave, around a half days walk from here. We'd be better off there, were a storm to hit."

Or bandits. Before the snow started falling, he had seen numerous humanoid footprints in the woods.

Thor turned, lifting a hand to protect his eye against the assault of the sunlight; while he was working, he didn't realise how much time passed by.

He started walking, hoping Loki would follow. A quick backwards assured him that he did.

* * *

><p>This two legged creature was a funny thing.<p>

He'd spin around knife in hand when it was only a leaf that had fallen and was completely oblivious to the presence of the shadowcats drawn by his constant coughing.

The sound worried the wolf. For some reason, even though something told him not to trust the human, he couldn't help, but care. Even if he seemed to be determined to call him "Loki" or "brother" at times.

Those names didn't mean anything to him. It might have once; but he had so many that he couldn't remember what was his _real _name. It might have been something else entirely, and the poor man is mistaking him for someone else of his kind.

The man had also more times asked him to "turn back", which he also ignored. He wasn't human. He learned that a long time ago. And pretending was not welcomed, he was taught by some men stronger than he, when he didn't have his speed, but two too long legs, and his fangs, but two clumsy hands. So why would he want to "turn back" into something that is weak, of whose existence is constantly filled with fear for the uncertain?

And then there was the Presence. It appeared sometime during the first night, and apparently didn't think about leaving anytime soon, making itself known was he to forgot about it for a moment.

It was a bother. He thought that sometimes he had seen it moving in the corner of his eye, but when he turned, it was gone, then appeared on the other side. This kind of sudden spinnings sometimes made Thor - because that was the human's name - wary; at other times he laughed it off in "snapping at shadows, brother?".

But it never hurt them. All it did was urge him forward, to protect this two-legged silly oaf, who risking his own health, marched into the least welcoming forest of Northern Alfheim, to find that brother of his and only finding him instead.

Oh, they did know each other, once upon a lifetime. The bits and pieces of a memory about a blonde boy made him certain of that; it couldn't be anyone else.

But he wasn't the person Thor was looking for; it was the black haired boy. Yet, he hoped that the blonde will find him. And he fully intended to help him with it.

The Gods would do better and repay the human's suffering in the cold vastness for days, for such a reason.

* * *

><p>Just as the meat starts to run out with no village in sight (contrary to Thor's hopes), they come across a stream covered with pale white ice. The man's face brightened.<p>

"We could fish here. What do you think?"

The idea in itself was good, except that he started out all wrong; he clearly didn't fish too much in his life.

For instance, he had chosen the worst possible place to fish, concerning the thickness of the ice.

And it was no feeble ice of Midgard. This was _true _ice.

"Brother, what possessed you when you chose a hideout where one cannot even _fish_?" Thor grumbled, as he tried and failed to cut a hole into the frozen water.

He yapped at the blonde, enjoying the sight of him struggling, before the human sat back miserably onto a piece of wood, cleared from the snow.

"It's impossible. I, the Mighty Thor, am defeated by mere ice. I'll never live the shame down."

The wolf let out an exasperated sigh, before turning and starting to jog down on the stream, his tail standing like a flag.

"Loki? Where are you going?"

He stopped, looking back, before continuing on his way. Could he really not tell that he wished the two-legged being to follow?

Judging from the heavy footsteps behind him, he realised.

They went on for good half an hour; him, listening to the water rushing underneath the ice and the human, huffing and puffing underneath the heavy furs, struggling to keep up, before he stopped. The water here could be heard well, so neither the snow-blanket, nor the ice shield was too thick, but still strong enough to bear the man's weight.

"And what now?" the blonde asked, looking puzzled. His ears perked up, and clawed at the snow underneath him. What could be a more clear message?

Yet, the man still didn't understand, so he repeated the motion.

"You want me... To fish here?" Thor asked, realisation dawning on his face. He gave a short bark as confirmation. The two-legged shook his head in disbelief.

"Lectured by my little brother on _where _to fish. The Norns have a sense of irony."

Whether the Norns were actual beings and capable of irony at that, the wolf didn't know. He only knew where is the preferable pace to cut the hole with the least problem.

He layed down, settling his head on his paws as he watched the man get to work.

* * *

><p><strong>Loki does remember Thor, though not much. And it's as if he was a third party in the memory; he sees himself and Thor from the outside. <strong>

**If counting in human years, Loki had to run when he was sixteen. He is now thirty-two, and had been a wolf for nine. He met Sigyn when he was twenty. And since the Werewolves do not have the memory span of an elephant, they do forget. And they forget quicker while in wolf form.**

**Oh, by the way, although I refer to him as such, Thor is not ****_exactly _****human. Here, Aesirs are an evolved kind of humans, and "human" refers more to the shape, than to the actual being from planet Earth. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

_The female was of his kind, he knew from the smell._

_She was slightly smaller, slimmer with auburn fur and yellow eyes that burned like the very Sun herself._

_She snarled, exposing her sharp teeth, made to bite and tear the flesh. The insolent behaviour angered him._

_How dare she? On HIS territory?_

_His fur bristled up on his neck as he answered with a snarl of his own. The female didn't back down, like normal wolves would have._

_Perhaps she thought she could outwit him. She'd have had to be mad to count on the possibility of her overpowering him. _

_The fight was short, quickly ending in her lying on her back, her belly and neck exposed._

_Maybe she could have won using her mind. She was unfortunate enough though to meet him, not someone else. _

_The female gave a low whimper, a sign of surrender._

_Hee wasn't feeling particularly gracious or benevolent in that moment._

_However, before his fangs could reach her neck, the paws turned into hands and the fur disappeared back into the white skin. She was slim, well-muscled and though not particularly pretty, there was just something about her that made him stop._

_"Don't," she whispered quietly, now human, "I beg of you."_

* * *

><p><em>"So why are you here?" Sigyn asked, pulling the blankets up to her chin.<em>

_"I'm sure you've noticed that our kind is not exactly the most welcome one."_

_"Still."_

_"I got into trouble. A big one. I had to run," he said, stirring the soup one last time, before deeming it ready. He poured it into the two wooden bowls and handed one to the woman._

_"You killed somebody?"_

_"No," he gave a raspy laugh, "I __**failed**__ to kill somebody."_

_"And what about your family? Did they have to run as well?"_

_"No. They're not like me. I was adopted. Besides, nobody would dare to make __**them**__ run."_

_"Why? Who are they?" He smiled._

_"That's a story for another time."_

_"Oh, come on, Loptr!"_

_"One day, I'll tell you. But only if you eat that and tell me why __**you **__are out here."_

* * *

><p>Thor didn't know that a small village on the horizon, with smoke lifting from the chimneys and disappearing into the afternoon sky could be such a sweet sight.<p>

But after days of cold and hunger, with only Loki's patience saving them sometimes, it was.

"What do you think, Loki?" he asked looking at the black animal, "Shall we go in?"

The wolf didn't answer - naturally - but gave him a lazy glance and yawned.

"I'll take that as a yes."

It's curious, he thought, how slowly minutes pass when you have your goal already in sight.

Twenty steps.

Ten steps.

Eight.

Five.

There was a yank on his coat, a forceful one.

"Odin's beard, Loki, what is the problem?"

His brother gave a whimper, but did not let go, his eyes dashing from the houses to Thor, then to the trees frantically. Thor frowned.

"Brother, it's just a simple village. No harm will come to you. I swear it."

The wolf released his coat, but the panicked look didn't leave his eyes, and continued to look back at the trees.

But he came nonetheless.

* * *

><p>The place unsettled him.<p>

It wasn't the _same_ village; but the eyes that regarded them with distrust could have been the same, just like the mouths that sneered at them as they passed the people.

Thor seemed to notice the hostile atmosphere as well, as his eyes flicked from one side to the other, his hand always near his weapon, the other on his neck. Finally, the blonde sighed with relief as he noticed a house bigger and more welcoming than the others, music playing faintly on the inside. The human looked down at him, one hand laid against the door, his breath coming out in puffs.

"What do you think?"

He thought they should go and never return.

"It can't be worse than out here. These people look positively murderous. Who knows, they might be a tiny bit more merrier in an inn."

In that he might be right. Besides, the blonde man didn't have fur like he did, only what he took from others. He needed the warmth and the presence of his kind.

Thor shook his hair, pieces of snow and ice caked into his hair falling down, before pushing the entrance.

The door opened, creaking lightly, and a gush of warmth escaped the dimly lit room. A maid welcomed them with a smile before hurrying off to do her work, which included swatting away hands of those who could no longer control it while pouring ale. Thor smiled back unconsciously, at least judging from the speed it disappeared from his face. He sniffed at the air, but the scent of alcohol and sweat overpowered almost everything else.

"Nice wolf you have there," a big and ugly man said, who, judging by the smell oozing from him, had some trolls in his ancestry. Giants were more elegant. "How much? I could use one like this in the hills."

"He is not for sale," the human said, settling down to one of the free tables.

As small as this village was, so many people seemed to gather here that the place was nearly full.

Or perhaps this was the only place where they could banish the chill from their bones.

"And if I really want it?" the ugly one asked, one hand reaching towards his head.

The hair stood up on his neck and he let a growl of warning escape from his throat.

"It'd appear," Thor said as laughter erupted around them, much to his confusion, "He doesn't return the sentiment."

The halfblood looked at him, and he looked back.

If it's a challenge, he'll take it. He'll fight this _thing_, the dark thing that surrounded the man like mist, with the faint tingle of alcohol.

The moment Thor looked away, the man reached into his pockets and pulled out a wicked, sharp thing, not to chop wood or carve utensils, but to cut flesh.

He lunged from the floor, slamming into the evil one's chest with all his weight, sending him to the floor.

He could have killed him then and there; the skin was visibly throbbing underneath his mouth, the hot blood racing underneath driven by his fear.

All it would have taken was one well-placed bite. For what is that soft flesh against his fangs?

A foul stench grew stronger and stronger - the man pissed himself.

"Loki," the Asgardian put his hand on the back of his head, "Let him go."

There was a fleeting sense of annoyance. How dare he tell him what to do with his prey? He should just turn back and tear Thor's hand from his wrist. He could do it. And that'd teach him a lesson.

He licked his snout, contemplating his chances. Yes, he could kill the man and hurt Thor, but he had no wish to do the latter; besides there were way too many people in the room. He could feel their gaze upon him, passing through his fur, burning holes into his skin.

It'd mean the end of him.

"Loki," Thor repeated with a warning in his tone this time.

He scampered off the man's chest, and disregarding the noises sat back on his haunches, then looked at the blonde, expectant.

_There, did what you wanted. What will you do now?_

"I apologise about this," the blonde said to the owner, who simply waved.

"Never mind that. He's way too often drunk and doesn't know who not to pick on, so it was a long time coming. We just didn't think that it'd happen in the form of a wolf. But I say you better have that beast of yours on a leash, or one day he'll turn on you."

"He'd never hurt me."

_Always too sure of yourself._

The wolf paid no mind to the sudden thought. He's been with the man only for a few days - how would he have any idea as for what Thor is sure in and in what he is not?

But it was good to know that the man would not make him share the life of common dogs.

The innkeeper gave him a look and shrugged his meaty shoulders.

"No skin off my back. Don't tell me I didn't warn you though."

* * *

><p><strong>So, it's been nearly a year?<strong>

**Ehehehe... Sorry.**


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, they took a room in the inn. After months of sleeping on the cold hard ground, even the sacks filled with hay felt like he was in the palace of the gods.

After convincing the serving maid that no, he has no need of her during the night - he had a bride waiting for him, after all - taking no chances he barred the door. Loki, as if sensing his worries settled down with his face towards the entrance, with apparently the intent of not moving anywhere until dawn.

He didn't mind it. As a wolf, his hearing and smelling were far superior to his own, and it was said that most animals can sense malicious intents whereas most humans don't. All in all, he had a much better night's rest than he would have without his brother.

His coughing got better when he woke up, thank the gods. It really was a bother, especially when he had to hunt. He supposed he should go around and ask if anyone knew about a wise-woman who could give him something.

A low whimper broke the silence of the room. Thor peered over the bedside, without actually getting off; it was indeed the wolf. He didn't move at all since las night, but his mouth was open and he was breathing heavily. A nightmare, most likely, Thor decided.

"Brother," he said in a low voice, for he didn't want to startle the wolf, "Brother. Loki."

The animal raised his scarred head, alert and wide awake, his mouth pulled into a snarl in case he needed to attack. Thor lifted his hands immediately into the air.

"Hey, calm down, it's just me. I was thinking about looking for a wise-woman and perhaps buying some food in the process. What do you say?"

Loki yapped.

"Got it. Food and nature first."

* * *

><p>The awakening couldn't have come in a better moment. He forgot a long ago that he was capable of having nightmares. After his beloved's death he shut out the world the best he could and usually went to sleep only when he was about to fall.<p>

That was also a good method for lessening the chances of anybody taking him unawares - for his sleep was rarely deep enough for him not to hear anything that mean danger.

He watched as Thor removed the large chunk of wood from the door and followed him downstairs, still trying to figure out how to walk the steep stairs.

This time, at least, unlike last night, he did not fell on his nose. That hurt. It had been long ago since he had last walked on stairs - he forgot that he has to be careful.

A strange sense ran through his body, as if he was itching.

No. Not as if. He _was_ itching.

He sat down and gave himself a mighty scratch with his hinder leg that lessened the annoying sensation. It earned him a funny glance from Thor, whose blue eyes were suddenly twinkling mischievously as he opened the door.

"I hope brother that you do not have fleas, because that'd mean a bath."

Fleas? No way. He had no fleas since... Well, a long time ago. Since the last time he was in a human village.

Realisation hit him with the force of a running bear.

It was early spring here, where humans lived- he could feel it in the wind, even if winter still lingered in the forest and will continue to do so for a time. And it was juust the time for those thrice-accursed black dots created when Nature herself was in a bad mood to return; and he was in a human village.

He whinnied and rolled in the dirt to get rid of those mischievous evil creatures, to no avail, not caring about the strange looks the people gave him.

As it brought no relief, chose the drastical approach and started going through his fur with his teeth.

"Bor's beard, you do have fleas," Thor concluded. "A bath, it is."

He braced himself for the inevitable cold wetness that an early spring stream would mean in the mountains.

_Stupid two-legged human. It's all his fault._

* * *

><p>Loki took the bath with as much grace as he could muster, from the looks of it. Thor was faintly amused; his brother hated baths with passion as children, and apparently he still didn't grew it out.<p>

Then of course, he wasn't too big on the idea of standing in nearly ice-cold water knee deep either, no matter the fire that he had previously made so the wouldn't freeze after coming out.

After he judged Loki to be clear of fleas - at least as much as he could wash them out - they walked back to the bank. His brother had the good sense to walk a bit further away from Thor before shaking himself, sending thousands of water drops flying. Then, after turning, he gave him an unimpressed look as he quickly dried his legs the best he could with a rag, put his socks and boots back on, then started jumping around like a madman, to keep the blood flowing.

He knew he was sick enough as it is, he didn't need it to get worse. Mother would disapprove of that.

Father disapproved of the whole notion of finding his brother. Thor tried not to think too much about that.

After he was as warm as he could possibly be, he put on the rest of his clothes and set out to find the wise-woman, who turned out to be a short, grey-haired crone but with as much energy as a foal..

"Thrice a day for a week, and you'll be as good as new!" she chattered, flying up and down on her ladder, gathering the ingredients, "And make sure that the your jolly companion is always in good mood. Clouds above one's head is not good for the health, I say! Hmph!"

Loki looked at Thor, as if asking something - he simply shook his head.

"No, darling boys, the lady is not entirely crazy, only a bit mad," she laughed. If there was ever a wolf looking stunned, now Loki made a perfect mimic of his expression.

"What? You thought just because you wear a fur coat and run on four legs I won't know you for what you are? Hmph! You must rise sooner lad if you wish to fool Hama! Hmph! You thought that since you don't know who you are, I"ll have no idea either? Well, my prince, you're sorely mistaken!" She gave them a toothy grin, "Now, don't look at me like dumbstruck deers, boys. You think there is no one in this village who uses her eyes, or her ears? Hmph! My boy, such armours are not made in any other realms but Vanaheim and Asgard. And you're far too broad to be a Vanir. And you there, who dared to forgot his own self, you're a shifter of the Jotünn! One of the three realms who tolerate what you are. Hmph! Thinking you could fool me, eh?"

"Yes... Well..." Thor muttered, fiddling with his purse, "How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, much. Repay me by getting outta here as fast as you can. The air is poisoning you, boy."

"Excuse me?"

"The air! The very air here is against Asgardians. First it makes you cough, then you spit blood. Slowly your lungs stop working. Then one day you won't wake. If it's one or two weeks, then you'd have not noticed anything but the soreness of your throat. For it to develop to such an extent you'd have to be here for a season," she squinted, "And on top of that you choose the colder ones. Not the brightest of the lot, are you? Anyway, that," she pointed at the satchel of herbs, "will last exactly a week. I advise you to be gone long before that."

* * *

><p>The air. Of course. He should have known. He followed a group of Asgardians for months before, living off what they left behind. They were in search of some rare talisman, but most of them died before they could find it.<p>

But then he cared less about why they died, and more about the fact that they were dead and perfectly edible, no matter how disgusted he was. But with a cracked leg there was no way that he could catch anything faster than himself, hence he was forced to resort to corpses of all kind.

But that the same could happen to Thor never crossed his mind. Most probably because of the man's size and behaviour.

The witch was right. They had to leave the mountains as soon as possible.

Thor was more silent than usual, probably chewing on just what we heard. He nudged him in his waist, at which the Asgardian looked at him surprised.

"Don't you worry," he smiled, and scratched him behind the ears, "You heard what the she said. We have a whole week. That's plenty of time."

Except if a blizzard comes, harsh and merciless, the snow and the wind chased by the hounds of Lady Winter for a last charge. Except if he loses his way in the great cold whiteness. Except if something happens to him that'd slow down the brisk they were walking. Except if...

"Stop that," Thor said suddenly. His ears perked up. Could he read his mind? No, obviously not.

At his puzzled expression, the blonde laughed.

"You always had that expression when you were overthinking something. Apparently, wolf or no it makes no matter, that remains the same."

He puffed in annoyance, but with some good feeling.

If he had a brother, he'd have liked it to be Thor. He'd have liked that very much. He wanted to know what brotherhood was like.

_You foolish, suicidal, unreasonable, stubborn oaf._

The Presence shifted in the periphery of his vision.

* * *

><p><strong>See? It wasn't two years, even if not much happens in this chapter... Either. Only two months.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

The forest was vast, with many creatures running rampant through its many hidden paths. But right now, it was just him and the deer, as if nothing else existed. The hunter and the prey.

It was only a few feet away, nibbling at the twigs of a smaller tree, delightfully oblivious to its nearing doom.

He felt the saliva thicken in his mouth, as his muscles flexed, ready to jump.

The deer took a step. And another. He prepared to spring into motion...

"LOKI!"

His jaws snapped at the thin air as the deer bolted towards the depths of the forest, its tiny white tail raised upwards, as if it meant to mock him in his defeat.

If there was a moment when he wished he'd have just killed the big blonde at the time they met, this was it. He had been tracking that deer for hours, _through the rain_.

And now his efforts are ruined by one word. A word he was slowly learning to despise.

"I told you not to run away like that before I wake up... I.. Uh-oh. Ruined another hunt, didn't I?"

Well, at least he was a quick learner, that much could be said for him. He growled, for emphasis, then nipped (gently) at the human's glowed fingers. His teeth left two tiny holes - something for him to remember his mistakes by.

Although, apparently it wasn't working, judging from how Thor simply laughed and ruffled the fur on his head.

At least they were getting away from the mountains, though not quick enough for his liking. The human was way more unstable on his two legs than he was on his four, could only walk where he'd run, and couldn't run as fast as he could. And tired out sooner. Still, they were making relatively good progress, given the situation.

"I'm sorry," Thor said, scratching behind his ear, "If it makes it any better, I caught a fish?"

It sounded strangely like "_I found a fish by the stream, probably left there by an otter, barely touched. Accept my apologies, I beg of you_".

Still, there was no choice; and a leftover fish was better than nothing when one had no great pantry to take a pick from. And definitely better than dead Asgardians.

* * *

><p>The world started to change, Thor noticed.<p>

He was no longer woken up by the chilly winds that always found their way into his makeshift tents of dirt and earth. The streams ran warmer and with more fish.

And Loki needed more frequent bathing.

He showed his displeasure in various ways; stealing food, waking him in the middle of the night without apparent reason, nipping at his hand, and tackling him to the ground without shaking the water out of his fur first.

At these times Thor would sigh and explain again that these baths were necessary and caused no more joy to him than to Loki.

Supposedly, everything was going well. Except, that there was a tingling sensation in the back of his skull, ever present when something was to go bad. What bothered him was that he knew not when to expect it to happen; so he laid and woke with this feeling.

As far as he could tell, something bothered his brother as well, and he himself was not better informed about what it might be. He whirled around any time a twig broke somewhere in the forest and at times glared into the distance, his head leaning towards one side or the other, trying to gather the tiniest of sounds.

Thor wasn't laughing now when Loki was snapping at shadows. Instead he wrapped his hand around the hilt of the weapon that was nearest to him in that moment. He started regretting that he left Mjöllnir home, his trusty weapon that served him well through many battles, but it would have given him away instantly for who he is.

He watched his brother feeding on the fish. He had already cut out his own part; now it was waiting in pieces in his bag to be roasted over fire.

They made camp at a clearing in the forest. Thor squinted into the satchel of herbs - it was going to last two, or at most three days.

The old woman lied or at least wasn't entirely right. He wasn't as good as new; oh, he didn't get worse, true, but there was no great progress in his healing. He shivered, despite the fire, so he drew the fox-skin cloak tighter and thought of home.

* * *

><p>Loki was gone again when he awakened. This was the third day in a row; and he was gone longer and longer with each time.<p>

The air was curiously crisp, but there were no winds moving through the streets and the birds were largely quiet as well - only one small black bird rushed through the air, trying to escape the spring storm that was brewing in the western sky.

He forced himself to walk, though his limbs were still stiff from the cold of the night. Yet, he had to find his brother; he couldn't lose him now.

Suddenly the world started dancing before his eyes; he groped desperately at the branch of a tree to stop himself from falling.

"Well, would you look at that boys! A princeling lost in the woods!"

He recognised the voice. The man from the inn.

Could they have followed him for so long?

_Whyever not?_, said his inner voice; this was a strange land with stranger people.

A hand turned his head with surprising gentleness, towards the other's sneering face.

_They are five._

Then, the hand clenched into a fist and sent him sprawling into the dead leaves.

"Where's the wolf?"

"I have no... Idea." The attacker's expression darkened.

"I want the wolf."

"And I want a hot... Bath. We... Don't always get what we want."

The force of the kick made him cough that left a metallic taste in his mouth. He stared dumbly at the blood spots darkening on the leaves.

"Where's the wolf?"

"I told you. I don't know." _And even if I would, I'd never tell you._

"You seemed pretty obsessive of him. I want your wolf."

"Yeah, you keep saying that," he answered, suddenly tired, "It's just that he isn't mine to give."

A kick, this time from a boot with a more pointed arch. Then another. And another.

Then a growl.

The wolf had his fangs bared, the fur standing up on his neck.

Thor was faintly amused. Only once or twice had he seen his brother enraged like that - and it was never for him, but more like caused by him.

The animal lunged at the man closest to him - but stopped abruptly in mid-air, before falling ungracefully to the ground, snarling.

"No, no, no," Thor muttered as he noticed the thick rope around Loki's neck. "Let him go. Let him go!"

Somewhere he found the strength and speed to stand up; and somehow he picked up a big rock and hurled at the man with the pointy boots that was walking towards his brother, _his tiny trickster brother_, with a great staff, raised to strike.

Then, something connected with the back of his skull and he crumpled to the ground with the knowledge that he failed his brother one more time.


	6. Chapter 6

_He was cradling her head, her body battered and beaten._

_She did not go down easily, that much was apparent. The bodies of those she took down before one had the luck to shoot her through the leg lay around them, and of those, who he had killed like a summer storm, suddenly and unmercifully, blinded by red rage. _

_She smiled at him. The beating she took couldn't hide her beauty._

_"Stop making... That face."_

_"Don't tell me what to do."_

_"Where'd that have gotten us?" she coughed, "The boys?"_

_"They're all right."_

_"Liar." He flinched at the accusation in her voice. Why did she have to have a sixth sense to be able to tell when he was not saying the truth? Can he not comfort her even now?_

_"They have been... Taken." _

_"You'll find them?"_

_"I promise you."_

_"Oh. Good then," she blinked, "You still haven't told me about your family. Now... Or never."_

_"I had a brother," he said, caressing her face, "His name was Thor."_

* * *

><p>It was a strange feeling to be in his old skin again, and surprisingly cold, being naked as he was.<p>

Luckily his captor was a little bit more surprised at him suddenly turning into a six feet tall man, towering over any of them easily. He yanked at the rope, its end still around his neck and so came with it the bandit holding it.

He fell back into the hard-learned motions like he had never forgotten them. He turned around, holding the man as a living shield, blocking three arrows, then yanked the dagger out of its scabbard. He discarded the body and with three quick jumps he was at the man who stood above the unconscious Thor, still in shock from the wolf-turned-man. The dagger easily found the way into his skull, from under his jaw. He drew it out with with a splurt of blood, before sending it flying into the third bandits eye.

Then, once more a wolf, he was on top of the one who though to _take _him to _work _for him, who he wanted and should have killed back in the inn.

Slow. They were so slow. Had Thor not been ill, he'd have made short work of these scum.

A sour stench filled the air; the man pissed himself as he tore at his soft skin with his fangs.

* * *

><p>The world turned slowly from black to blurry grey.<p>

_Someone make the bells stop. _

It weren't the bells, he realised as he opened his eyes. It was just his ear ringing from the blow. Which hurt as much as if he had been smashed across the head with Mjöllnir.

Slowly but surely the trees got back their regular forms. He pushed himself up, then fought with the nausea that suddenly overcame him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The man was stark naked, with long, unruly black mane, his body covered in scars. His features were wild, his face gaunt, but his eyes were alive. And familiar.

"My wolf," he rasped, his lips not entirely keen on obeying, "What happened to my wolf?"

The man blinked, as if surprised - then a great grin split his face.

"Oh dear. You hit your head harder than I assumed. What're we to do now, Thor?"

That way of intonation.

The man's lips parted on their own accord.

"Loki?"

"Not the king of Muspelheim, anyway." His brother shifted under his gaze, as if slightly unnerved by it. Or perhaps he was simply uncomfortable in this form of his.

"You're... Naked."

"Yes," his brother nodded, "Clothes have the awfully bad habit of not changing with the shifter."

Thor laughed, throwing his arms around the thin but wiry body, however a hand in his face stopped him.

"Stop. I'm aware that you were right. And that we indeed share a common history for the most part. I recognise our enforced kinship, I'll even go as far to call you brother in soul, even if not in blood," his eyes flashed, "But do not ever presume to hug me while covered in blood and smearing it all over me. I've just washed."

"Understood. What happened to the bandits?"

"They decided to take a nap," he shrugged, "A long one. Two of them, anyway; the last I saw of the youngest, he was running around in the forest screaming about some eye," Loki answered, stretching.

"Oh, for the Norns' sake. There are clothes in my bag, dress yourself."

"You've been fine with me without them so far."

"Because you were covered for fur and standing on four legs instead of two. Do you want to catch a cold?"

"Thor, I'm a frost giant - I might feel the cold, but it could never do anything to me."

"Yeah. Sure. Fine," he said, his voice calm, "Then do it because of the ladies."

"What ladies?"

"The ones who're blushing as red as a strawberry right now."

The shifter turned.

"Oh."

* * *

><p>The road back took three and a half more weeks, and as the time passed, so did his coughing start to disappear.<p>

More and more of Loki's memories returned with each passing day; for instance one night Thor was awakened by a pinch behind his left ear, where it _hurt_.

"That's for eating my favourite cake," Loki said, eyes gleaming triumphantly.

"The what now?"

"My cake. When it was mother's silver coronation feast, I put a piece of cake away. You ate it."

"Oh."

The three weeks were full of situations like this. Memories Thor had long ago forgotten - but now that they returned to Loki, he was reminded of them. One morning he woke up to Loki's sleeping place being empty - so he started his search frantically again.

His brother was sitting at the opening of a meadow beside a little heap of earth, looking glassy eyed at the remains of what might have been a house once. Thor backed out, hoping that his presence went unnoticed, and when Loki returned, he didn't speak a word of it.

"Thor, I have a question," his brother said one day, swatting away a particularly thirsty mosquito, "You're taking me back to Asgard, correct?"

"Indeed."

"What happens to me once I'm there?"

"Well, you meet Mother first, then we have a..." The look on his brother's face told him that it wasn't what he was worried about. _Ah. _"You didn't hear about it?"

"Spending time as a wolf means I don't often hear the news," Loki answered, growing frustrated.

"There's been a war. Midgard was the final goal of the invaders; but Asgard stood in their way.

Yet, the war would have been lost if not for the Vanir and Midgardian shifters. Asgard abolished every one facility and law that has a negative effect on shifters. They won a full citizenship in Asgard."

"I see, but I hear a but in your voice."

"There are still those, who do not look kindly upon them. Mostly the elders. However they can take no legal action against them or you, unless of course you hurt a citizen. Though there are people of the entirely opposite kind too. Some, for instance opened special daycares fo shifter parents' with children, now that they could come out of hiding. I've been to one of them," he said, smiling broadly, "There are the children running and screaming at and from each other while playing, then whuff, suddenly there are baby foxes, bear cubs, and puppies."

"Why, you sound almost envious."

"Well, I am! Would I not be the prince, I'd definitely work at one of those daycares."

"Imagine the horror on Odin's face," Loki mused, "When the crown prince announces that he'll change the diapers of shifter children rather than attending war councils."

"You know what? I shall just do that. A good prince shall learn about _all_ of his people, not live alienated from them."

* * *

><p>"Mother."<p>

Frigga put down the tablecloth she was working on and rose to greet her son with a warm, but noticeably tired smile.

"Thor. I was so worried..."

"You needn't have worried, I can look after myself."

Frigga gave a little laugh as she embraced him.

"What mother can stop worrying for her child? Certainly you do not shun me for it?"

"I would never dare to."

"Good. Because you'd never forget the lecture I'd give you, mark my words."

"You have a moment to spare? "Thor said releasing her from his arms, "I'd like you to meet someone."

"Who is this mysterious someone? Hopefully not a fair maiden. Poor Jane would be quite distraught."

"No, not a woman," Thor reassured her, "Most certainly not. Most times, anyway."

"Most times?"

"Go on in. He's in the garden."

"So it's a he. Even worse. One more friend to go on unnecessary _adventures_ with."

"Just go," the blonde said, giving her a gentle push with a smile on his lips. "I think you'll find him most agreeable. I was thinking perhaps he could be my advisor when I'm king..."

Frigga smiled at him as she entered the garden. The trees were in a bloom, colouring the place in shades of yellow and pink, a few petals swimming in the little pond in the middle. She squinted her eyes.

"I can't see him."

"You'll need to look a little harder than that, Mother. In hiding, he is second to none. Especially when he doesn't mean to hide."

"What do you... Oh."

Her son was right; there was somebody sitting behind the old oak tree from Midgard, dressed in green leather and unmoving. No wonder she didn't notice him at first glance.

The man was asleep. He had to be younger than Thor, but his face was a lot more worn, hard lines setting in the corner of his mouth, with a few, barely visible scars here and there, though there was a more noticeable one that was half hidden by the long neck of his tunic and vest.

Except for the one near his ear.

Frigga sucked her breath in.

Wishful thinking has never done good to her.

"Loki?"

The eyes, those green eyes she knew so well, snapped open, the smile that had always come so easily to his face already in place.

"Hello, Mother."

* * *

><p><strong>Needless to say, Odin wasn't happy with his son's notion. He tried to order him to stop, but then Thor simply snuck out of the palace. Having had enough, Odin allowed it and mumbled something like "foolish youth, never having their priorities right, he should be learning the art of cooking" under his nose.<strong>


End file.
